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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25394488">Lionfang Week - 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragomir/pseuds/Dragomir'>Dragomir</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Flowers, Fluff, Language of Flowers, M/M, Phone Sex, magical cell phones, no betas we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:49:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,012</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25394488</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragomir/pseuds/Dragomir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>7 days, 7 fics, 7 new stories for Lionfang. (Many thanks to Cheeziswin for setting this all up.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Varok Saurfang/Anduin Wrynn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Lionfang Prompt Week</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Fascination</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>True to form, I am still getting this done after 10pm instead of a reasonable hour.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Varok propped himself up on one arm, knuckling sleep out of his eyes as the bed next to him shifted. Anduin patted his arm, a smile on his face in Varok’s blurry vision as he eased himself out from under the covers. Weak morning sunlight suffused the room with a soft golden glow, white stone shimmering and throwing glittering refractions in the air. Anduin glittered in the light, looking almost as perfect as the statues in the keep - not nearly as cold and lifeless, though, Varok thought as the king began humming to himself as he splashed water on his face and checked his reflection in the mirror.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to be up, you know,” Anduin said, voice light and teasing as he stepped across the room, slippers thwapping gently against the uncarpeted floor. “Go back to sleep. You, at least, can avoid breakfast meetings with the House of Nobles.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Varok grunted sourly, curling himself into the frankly disgusting number of pillows and soft bolsters the keep’s servants seemed to think the king’s bed needed. Not that he was going to complain - the bed was more comfortable than the one he kept in Orgrimmar, and after the Banshee had almost killed him at the Mak’gora - </span><em><span>had</span></em><span> killed him, if not for Anduin’s intervention</span> <span>- because his aching body certainly wasn’t going to.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He licked his lips and yawned, jaw cracking as he sat up fully and stretched, spine popping. “What do those idiots want today?” the old orc rumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh…. Tax evasion, I think. Some of the Champions are trying to avoid paying again.” Anduin shook his head, a fond smile on his face as he pulled a clean undershirt on, tossing his sun-bright hair to free it from the soft linen. He reached for a stack of letters a servant had deposited on his desk at some point in the earlier hours of the morning, chewing idly on his lip as he slipped stockings on, sliding the silk up over his legs and up to his thighs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Such a shame to hide them under so much fabric, Varok thought. If they were in Orgrimmar for the winter, as the armistice had agreed, Anduin could get away with a kilt and a simple tunic. ...Well, maybe more than that. Lady Thalyssra and Lor’Themar would complain if the Alliance’s boy-king arrived to breakfast dressed so informally. (Varok could quote back some of Lor’Themar’s bad erotic poetry to make them both stop, at least.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Definitely tax evasion,” Anduin murmured, setting the letters back on the desk and heading for his wardrobe to retrieve the rest of his clothes for the day. According to some of the gossip Varok had heard, the king was still mourning the death of his last valet - it was a bit improper to mourn a servant, apparently, but this Wyll had been almost as close to Anduin as Anduin’s own father. To mourn someone who was practically family was more understandable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If anyone complained about the lack of a new valet in Saurfang’s earshot, he could always make them uncomfortable about it. ...No, no, that would upset Anduin. Always the peacemaker, even with the burdens of leadership resting on his narrow shoulders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tax evasion,” Varok repeated, unimpressed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anduin laughed, bright and ringing, as he buttoned up a doublet in Stormwind blue, shot through with gold threads that paled in comparison to the king’s own shining light. “You wouldn’t believe what the Alliance champions pull every year at tax time. There are plenty of literacy classes offered now so the tax collectors can hire clerks to chase down all the alleged deaths.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Varok shook his head in disbelief, wondering again how Anduin could keep up with so much in one city. He was barely a cub himself, and yet, he kept this entire city - and the entire Alliance, some days - running like a well-oiled goblin machine. The Horde, at least, largely managed to run itself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop worrying,” Anduin said, suddenly in front of him. “You’ll get lines.” He kissed Varok’s forehead and left, golden hair swishing unbound behind him as he departed the bedroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Varok sighed, flopping back into the pile of pillows for some more sleep. Of course he worried. Anduin deserved every ounce of it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Saurfang is a little bit besotted, but he swears it's just the lack of sleep.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Warmth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It is far too early, and far too cold to be awake, in Anduin's royal opinion.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know this barely counts as a fic, but I ran into some IRL problems and almost blew a gasket.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Anduin grumbled under his breath and reached for the nearest object he could use to block out the light. It happened to be Saurfang’s arm, and Anduin let out a pleased, if somewhat muffled noise as the accursed light was blocked once more. Saurfang’s arm was large, and warm, and very, very heavy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There are pillows, you know,” Saurfang said somewhere over him. Anduin pouted as the orc withdrew his arm, grabbing at green flesh with a displeased noise as Saurfang laughed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmmph. Too early,” Anduin grumbled. “Too bright. Too cold.” He rolled onto his side, pressing himself face-first into the orc’s chest. “Close the curtains if you get up?” he asked, blinking innocently up at his mate. Saurfang laughed and rolled onto his side instead, letting Anduin slide back into his chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And deprive you of your much-needed warmth?” Saurfang replied, rubbing a thumb over Anduin’s cheek, a fond expression on his face. “I am not so cruel.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Anduin grinned widely. “No you’re not.” He kissed Saurfang’s chest, still smiling, and closed his eyes so he could return to sleep.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Saurfang got up eventually, and put hot bricks in the bed for Anduin to curl around so he wouldn't freeze. And he did, of course, close the curtains.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Heal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Varok is a worry-wart, no matter what front he might like to present.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one was easier to write than the last two. ....I'm not gonna question it, y'know?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Don’t move.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t that my line?” Anduin laughed, groaning as pain shot through his abdomen. He’d been </span>
  <em>
    <span>stabbed</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of all things. In Orgrimmar. One of the few places he’d thought someone would try to attack him - illogical as that sounded, even to his ears - and he’d been </span>
  <em>
    <span>stabbed</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Varok glowered down at him, lines around his eyes deepening in the gloom of their shared bedroom in Grommash Hold. He didn’t look pleased, although whether from worry or actual anger, Anduin couldn’t say. The orc had a tendency to blame himself for things going wrong, and hadn’t taken Anduin joking that self-flagellation was for priests well either. (Some humor didn’t translate well, no matter how hard Anduin had tried to explain various jokes.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You were stabbed.” Varok’s mouth tightened and he lifted the blanket lying over Anduin’s torso to look at the bandages. “Any higher, and I would be short a mate.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Anduin laughed weakly. “And they said you wouldn’t care about me,” he sighed, clasping Varok’s wrist with his hands. “I am fine. You can stop mother-henning me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am not mother-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me up, let me drink some water, and I can heal this in a minute.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The line between Varok’s brows got deeper. “You could stand to rest, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Anduin smiled, expression pained. “So could you.” He grinned lopsidedly. “If you join me, I’ll rest, and I won’t try to heal this again for at least a day. Bargain?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Varok grunted sourly, but sat down on a leather-covered stool to take his boots off. “Fine. If you agree to </span>
  <em>
    <span>rest</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Varok did paperwork while keeping Anduin on bedrest. Anduin claimed Varok wasn't resting and got glared into submission.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Relaxation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anduin takes a much deserved break from work. (Mild nsfw content.)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey look, it's........almost smut. Anduin's taking a relaxation break from his paperwork, don't judge him.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Anduin propped his feet up on the windowseat, staring at the slowly-growing pile of paperwork on his lapdesk. It seemed like it grew every time he looked away, like an untreated infection. He could have </span>
  <em>
    <span>sworn</span>
  </em>
  <span>, at some point this morning, that he’d actually been making headway. And now it was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>large</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He looked out the window, grimacing as the bright light reflecting off the famed white stone of Stormwind’s buildings hit his eyes. He’d shut the curtains and bask in the darkness and relative quiet of his private office, but this window was starting to become the only sunlight he saw on a regular basis.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed, closing his eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose as another headache came on. He almost wished one of the champions would appear to harrangue him about something minor until he was breathless with laughter, eyes watering with tears of mirth instead of the tiredness sapping his will to work so often these days. ...Or, perhaps…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His thoughts turned to a certain orc and he smiled crookedly, pulling a pendant out from under his tunic. The heavy gold tear-drop pendant rested heavily in his palm, the symbol of the Horde engraved on the front of the casing. Were he to open it, a brilliant red garnet would flash up at him in the sunlight, glowing with arcane energy that allowed him to speak to Saurfang.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All purely in the interest of politics, of course. Part of the armistice, to keep any more </span>
  <em>
    <span>misunderstandings</span>
  </em>
  <span> at bay.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>...Or, in this case, a call that was a little more personal. He cast his gaze to the two grandfather clocks pressed against the far wall. The one on the left, draped in blue, was the time in Stormwind. The other, draped in red edged with black trim, showed the time in Orgrimmar. All in the interests of politics, of course.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Anduin put his lapdesk aside and stretched one leg out in front of him, unbuttoning his trousers as he opened the pendant’s casing to expose the gem in it. When it was open and shining with a faint question of magic, he pressed his thumb into it and spoke.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Saurfang?” he asked, and sat back, waiting for a reply as he dragged his fingers idly through the soft thatch of hair leading to his rapidly hardening cock. Was it in poor form to use this particular item for his own gratification? Probably. Had Saurfang started it? Yes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Was he going to take advantage of the situation to return the favor? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Absolutely</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was a rough snort, faintly metallic, and Saurfang finally replied. “This is revenge for last week,” the orc accused, voice amused. There was a crackling noise and Anduin imagined the orc yawning, hinge of his powerful jaw popping.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Anduin slipped his fingers under the waistband of his smalls, teasing his cock out and running his thumb over the head. “Maybe. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> make some noises that made it difficult to get back to sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“....”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Anduin could almost hear the gears turning in Saurfang’s brain at that statement and grinned, gripping himself a little tighter as he thought about what the orc would be doing - had done before, the last time they’d seen each other in person.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You are a </span>
  <em>
    <span>brat,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Saurfang huffed. Anduin let out a soft moan at the reprimand, drawing a laugh from his mate. “I ought to give you a spanking next time I see you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Pro-ah!- Promises, Saurfang,” Anduin gasped, hips bucking a little. “D-don’t m-make promises you- you won’t keep!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmph.” There was a pause, then, “If Greymane blames me for your break from paperwork, tell him I’m going to muzzle him at our next meeting.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Anduin chuckled. “O-of co-course, Saurfang. Anything for you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Saurfang has a spraybottle with Greymane's name written on it. He's gotten a lot of use out of it and refuses to get rid of it. Greymane hates him.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Culture</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Varok learns new things about humans every day, and most of them are confusing.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In which the author redeems themself for the last incident involving flowers.</p>
<p>Also, I will eventually get this whole shebang done. Promise.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Varok watched in amusement as Anduin accepted another bouquet from some admirer. The human’s whole face twitched as he took in the collection of flowers, face slowly turning redder and redder, hands tight around the stems. He turned to speak with Shaw in a low voice, gold hair shining in the light. After a few minutes, he straightened, passed the bouquet off to Shaw, and stepped off the platform, striding easily over to where Varok was lounging out of the sunlight. Stormwind’s sun had nothing on the one that shone over Orgrimmar, but Varok still saw no reason to risk undue exposure either way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Anduin threw himself down on the blue couch next to Varok’s red one - one of the castle servants had a sense of humor, Varok assumed - massaging his temples and muttering under his breath. The vein of commentary was a long string of obscenities interspersed with aspersions being cast on the gifter’s character.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Human custom gone wrong?” Varok asked, lifting the pitcher of water out of its ice bath and pouring a glass for Anduin. Mint leaves swirled in the water as he poured, settling back to the bottom when Anduin gestured for him to stop.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After a long drink, throat bobbing as he swallowed greedily, Anduin spoke, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “The noble in question is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> being allowed near me again.” He gestured vaguely towards where Shaw had disappeared with the bouquet. “I realize people don’t see this as a love-match,” he added with a petulant scowl, gesturing between himself and Varok, “and most of them think it’s a political stageplay to keep our factions from fighting, but there was absolutely no call for </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Varok raised a brow, pouring himself some water. As far as he knew, this whole performance was so the nobles could wish their king well on his birthday - and jockey for favor, as quite a few had done, from what Varok could hear where he was seated, out of the way but still close enough to be menacing - and perhaps get a few favors by proving their loyalty or the depths of their bank vaults. If they knew how hard it was to sway their king, Varok suspected many of them wouldn’t have come. Anduin sighed loudly, head tipped back over the edge of his couch, glass of water held loosely in one hand as condensation beaded up and pooled on his skin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It was an incredibly obscene statement, a threat to you, and some other things that Shaw is going to have to investigate.” Anduin massaged his forehead with his free hand. “This whole thing is stupid. I should have held a masquerade instead.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You complained about the cost of that so soon after a war,” Varok reminded him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not helping.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Varok shrugged. “How did you learn of the noble’s intentions?” he asked, changing the subject. “You spoke for less than a minute.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The flowers. It’s a coded message. My father, Light bless him, banned them for six months after someone asked him if he fucked like a dog.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Varok choked on his water, and decided he wasn’t going to ask about flowers and coded language for at least a week. ...Alright, maybe not until tomorrow.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Varok brought Anduin a bouquet a few days later. It was very thoughtful, and Anduin displayed it in the throne room until it had to be replaced with silk flowers due to natural decay and the progression of time.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Strength</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There's a curious kind of strength in Anduin Wrynn.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>One of the perks of being the only person physically at work is being able to log into my personal gdocs to write. Anyways.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Varok knew orcs - and a large swathe of the Horde, and probably an equal number of the Alliance, full of strapping warriors as it was - considered his mate to be quite weak. Anduin was...small. There wasn’t another way to describe the human that wouldn’t end with him exiled to the couch, or worse, for a month, so “small” it was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But for all his fragile appearance, Varok could think of none stronger. Oh, in terms of physical strength he was no paragon, but there were numerous champions on both sides who weren’t particularly strong themselves. They relied on other skills to vault themselves into the hallowed ranks of the legends that came before them, and no one judged them. But apparently, the standards for human kings was so high that any slip, any slight flaw, opened one up to ridicule.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Anduin was strong. It took a particular strength to save a foe - or at least to spare a foe’s life, when your dogs bayed at your back for their blood. It took something even sterner to free that foe, to trust them to follow your plan and to keep their word. Anduin had looked at him, and seen not a hated foe or a worthy enemy, but someone who shared his ideals and would agree with him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Would, given the right push, follow him to the gates of hell and walk through willingly - and Varok would, and had, and would do so again. Because, for all his timidity and shining golden purity, Anduin Wrynn would have been at his side as they walked through the gates together.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That, Varok knew, was an entirely different kind of strength. Not even a living legend like the champions could match it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Anduin caught Saurfang looking at him with the orcish equivalent of heart-eyes more than once. He just smiled and tried not to laugh, because the Overlord looked absolutely besotted.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some introspection from Anduin, this time. And a massage.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>No, I completely did mean to post this like two weeks after I said I would, promise.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Anduin breathed slowly, eyes closed. A large, warm, work- and weapon-scarred hand ran down his back, knuckles dragging gently down the length of his spine. A little voice that sounded suspiciously like Genn sounded in his ear, telling him he was a fool.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He squashed it as a cap clicked behind him. The smell of flowers - night-blooming jasmine, a favorite of Kal’dorei and Shal’dorei - and fruit - cactus, maybe - filled the air. He shivered as the hand returned, slick with oil, thick fingers brushing over his shoulders and the back of his neck, digging in gently.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Being naked in a hide tent, with an orc who should theoretically have no love for him and would love nothing more than the opportunity to end the line of Stormwind’s kings, took quite a lot of faith on his part.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But this was just a massage, and honestly, he needed the tension worked out of his shoulders. Valeera had offered, a few times, but she never dug in hard enough - she acted like she was afraid he would break, like he would shatter under her touch. (There had been no impropriety on his part, and certainly none on hers, despite what Genn and Turalyon had implied when they’d somehow learned.) Varok, on the other hand - Anduin huffed out a little laugh at the unintentional joke - knew how hard to press and where to dig in. To him, Anduin wasn’t a delicate museum piece, meant to be cossetted and protected.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>...Well, protected was a bit of a stretch. But Varok protected him as one would protect a mate who didn’t have eyes in the back of their head. It was a meeting of partners, and that took another kind of trust altogether. Less, perhaps, than this did.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Not that Anduin was going to say that. He appreciated that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> do this with Varok, that no ill would come of it, and that, the second something went wrong, Varok would stop and retreat to the opposite side of the tent.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing more would be said. Anduin appreciated that. There was very little Varok </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> do for him, at this point, and Anduin appreciated that too. Trust was, after all, a two-way street.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was glad they were walking it together, rather than simply passing each other and nodding as their paths crossed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Some things were better experienced together.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Anyways. Saurfang gives the *best* massages and you can't tell me differently.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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